


My Stupid Boyfriend Tag

by ALoza



Series: Youtube Famous [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Boyfriend Tag, Confessions of love, Cute Derek moments, Embarrassed Derek, Fluff, Lots of Smiling, M/M, Smiley Stiles, Stiles is kind of a big deal on the internet in the nerd world, Youtuber!Stiles, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:37:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALoza/pseuds/ALoza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a Youtuber, and this is Derek's first time on camera.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Stupid Boyfriend Tag

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse any grammatical mistakes. I wrote this at like 1 in the morning in less than an hour. Just let me know in the comments if you find anything that's really bad.
> 
>  
> 
> Updated: October 12, 2013  
> I just went through a tidied it up a bit. Please enjoy the gushing fluff!

The red record light blinked and Stiles smiled into the camera, waving awkwardly, eyes flickering to the small, rectangular screen to check he was in focus and in the correct lighting. 

“Hey, nerds, Stiles here,” he said. “I was looking through the comments of my last video where I asked for some ideas, what you guys wanted to see, and a lot of you suggested - well, demanded - that I do the Boyfriend Tag. I know that I’m not particularly personal on here, seeing that I’m a cosplay and gaming channel, but you demanded, so here it is.”

Stiles paused the camera and looked behind the umbrella light, “Okay, sit here.” He patted the empty seat next to his, adjusting it slightly to accommodate the best lighting. 

Derek raised a brow and rolled his eyes when Stiles smiled, cheeks glowing. “Fine.” 

He sat awkwardly, pursing his lips at the camera, eyes narrowed from the brightness of the light. 

“Stop looking like you’re in pain,” Stiles sighed. “Please, you said you’d do this.”

Derek sagged his shoulders. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Stiles smiled and laced their fingers together, hitting REC on the small remote in his free hand.

“And here is my boyfriend!” he said, gesturing wildly at the two-hundred pound slab of hunking muscle beside him. Derek snorted and waved stiffly, lips pursed to the side, and muttered a single “Hello.”

“This is Derek, my beau, my main squeeze, the peanut butter to my jelly, my lamb-chop, the apple of my-”

Derek squeezed Stiles’ fingers tightly and he yelped, throwing him a glare. 

“This is my boyfriend,” he finished. “Now, you’ll forgive Derek for his lack of manners, but we’ll proceed and just dive straight into the questions.” Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket and the screen lit up. He fumbled with it, pulling up the questions. He cleared his throat and smiled at Derek out of the corner of his eye. 

“Question one, where did we first meet?” Stiles asked, raising a brow at Derek. 

He sighed, looking embarrassedly at the camera. “Stiles, I changed my mind. I can’t do this.”

Stiles dropped his shoulders. “Really? Please? What’s the problem?”

Derek gestured at the camera in disdain, “It’s weird. You’re not talking to anybody.”

“Yet, I’m not talking to anybody yet,” Stiles clarified. “Not until I edit and upload the video.”   
Derek rolled his eyes. “I’m not good at this sort of thing.”

“Tell me about it,” Stiles laughed. He turned in his chair and pressed his lips to Derek’s fingers, kissing them softly, individually, and looking up at him with big, amber eyes. Derek felt his knees shiver. “Come on, Der, please?”

He looked away, annoyed, squaring his jaw, “Okay.”

Stiles lit up. 

“Question one,” he repeated, looking up at him, “where did we first meet?”

“In high school,” Derek said, and squared his shoulders uncomfortably. 

“Stop that,” Stiles snapped, “You look like a rectangle.”

Derek growled, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Just relax, be yourself,” Stiles said. “Loosen up.”

Derek winced, seeing the pleading expression on Stiles' face, “I’ll try.”

“Again,” Stiles said, “Question one, where did we first meet?”

“High school,” Derek said. Stiles leaned in, eyes straining. 

“Go on,” he said.

“We met in high school, during second period, the first day of Stiles’ sophomore year. We had Computer Science together.”

Stiles nodded, pleased. “Very good, Derbear.”

Derek cringed. “Please don’t put that in the video.”

“But I always call you that,” Stiles argued.

“Please,” Derek begged.

“Fiiiiinnneeee,” Stiles said. He regained composure and returned to the questionnaire. “Question numero dos, how old am I?”

“You’re nineteen,” Derek said, looking at Stiles, and not the camera. Stiles sighed inwardly.

“And you are twenty one,” Stiles said. “Question three, how long have we been together?”

“They can do the math,” Derek snapped. 

“That’s not the point, now answer the question, please.”

Derek rolled his eyes, and Jesus, Stiles wondered if he’d ever not think that wasn’t sexy.

“Four years this last September,” Derek said, head filling with a sudden onslaught of memories. He smiled, mostly to himself, remembering their first date. It'd been awkward, beyond awkward, which was quite an accomplishment, considering how awkward both of them were naturally. But once you factored dating the town Sheriff's underage son, the awkwardness expanded exponentially. 

“Perfecto,” Stiles popped the ‘P’ loudly. “Question four, what color are my eyes.” Stiles shielded his face quickly, snapping his eyes shut for good measure. 

“Brown, but when the light hits them, they’re amber,” Derek mused, smirking at Stiles, counting the moles spotting his face. He knows every angle, every curve of Stiles' body, knows how the moles mark his skin like stars, small ones, big ones, shining pronounced and maroon-brown on his pale flesh.

Stiles smiled at him, “Aw, you love me. Yours are hazel, well, sort of, they’re like forty different colors, sometimes they look blue, but most of the time they’re this green color splashed with spots of brown and yellow, and I can’t really describe it guys,” he turns his attention to the camera, “and this isn’t me being all gushy, but just trust me when I say, they’re magical.”

Derek felt his face flush and his ears turned pink from the heat rising from his neck. 

“Question five, what drink do I order when we go out to dinner?” Stiles cocked his head.

“Coke,” Derek muttered. “With a water, no lemon because it makes you gag seeing the flecks and seeds floating with the ice.”

Stiles smiled, “Yeah, that’s gross. You like tea, sweet tea, and if you’re feeling adventurous, raspberry tea with light ice so the flavor isn’t diluted.”

Derek chuckled, feeling himself relax. “I’m not paying 2.50 for a watered down tea.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Tragedy.”

Derek glared playfully, nudging Stiles' side, fingers crawling up and under his shirt, who giggled loudly. 

“Hands to yourself!” he cried. “Question six, what’s my favorite food?”

Derek scoffed, “Curly fries.”

Stiles made a face, “Derek’s kind of an animal and likes his steaks rare.”

“It tastes better and the steak isn’t as dry,” he snapped. 

Stiles felt a warm, tingling sensation tickle in the pit of his stomach. Derek was relaxing, he was being playful, seeming to forget that they were being recorded. 

“Question seven, what’s one thing I do that you wish I didn’t?” Stiles readied himself, expecting to hear something along the lines of ‘You talk too much’, ‘You never, ever stop talking’, ‘You ask too many questions’...

Derek smiled to himself, features softening as he took in Stiles’ beaming face. He looked so happy, happy that Derek had agreed to make this video with him, happy that he was indulging him in his hobby. Happy because of him. He caused that smile, the one that could brighten any situation, any shitty day seemed pointless, and the stress from work would vanish beneath the wattage of Stiles' smile.

“Honestly? Nothing,” he answered, voice tender. 

Stiles blushed and adjusted his glasses, “Well then...” He tried not to grin like an idiot, but was unsuccessful; in a quick movement, he leaned forward, and pecked Derek’s cheek; his face was hot, skin burning at the touch, but feeling significantly colder without the press of Stiles' lips. 

“Question eight, what’s my favorite color?” he cleared his throat.

Derek plucked Stiles’ shirt, “Plaid. Any plaid.”

“Plaid isn’t a color, Derek,” Stiles snapped indignantly. 

“But it’s your favorite,” Derek grinned. 

Stiles raised a brow, “I’ll concede. You like black. A lot of black.”

Derek snorted. “It’s slimming.”

“Ha, okay, Mr. Muscle Stud of the Year,” Stiles laughed. “Question nine, who wears the pants in the relationship? I resent this question, because it’s just a way of asking who bottoms.” Stiles snaps into the camera, eyes narrowing, finger pointing accusingly. “I’m onto you internet pervs.”

Derek rushed forward and nuzzled his neck, “Don’t get your underwear in a knot.” He brushed his stubble gently across Stiles’ delicate face, the skin flaring red. Stiles froze, feeling a rise in his jeans. 

Stiles swatted him away. “Not that kind of video!”

They laughed and joked, well, Stiles joked, and Derek tried his best to seem welcoming and appealing. He’d seen Stiles’ other videos, all one-hundred and ninety-nine of them, and new that his subscribers were rabid for him. He felt a pang of jealously, unwarranted of course, since Stiles never indulged any of the commenters, when he’d scrolled through the comments section of his page. And maybe, that’s why he was suddenly being overly affectionate, staking his claim for the entire internet to see. Stiles was his. Just his. His to kiss, to cuddle, to nuzzle, to bite, to lick, to fuck, and to hold. This goofy boy, perfect goofy boy, was his, and he trembled with satisfaction. 

“And finally, question twenty,” Stiles turned to him, suddenly serious, “when did you know that I was the one?”

Stiles hated that question. Most of the boyfriends in the videos he’d watched seemed compromising and uncomfortable when it was asked, like they were searching for some sort of lie, to seem convincing to their partner; he could see the doubt in their eyes when they spoke, eyes flickering to the camera. 

Derek blinked at him, and with a second beat, said, “From that first day of school, when you sat next to me and asked if you’d need a pencil in Computer Science. You looked so...dorky in your oversized button up and baggy jeans. And,” he gulped, watching Stiles’ face change, eyes growing wide. “And I loved you in that instant.”

Stiles’ heart exploded, a riot of butterflies flourishing wildly in his stomach, and he smiled, resting his forehead against Derek’s, forgetting about the camera, about his viewers, and kissed him lightly, only once, but enough to whisper “I love you” into his mouth.

He rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat, “Well,” he said, “that’s that, and you now know an embarrassing amount about my relationship. Please comment, subscribe, like and share this video, and I’ll be back next week with a new video.” He smiled, and Derek saluted with two fingers, resting his chin on Stiles’ shoulder, feeling blissful when Stiles clicked the STOP button and leaned into him, kissing him once more. 

The next morning, Stiles’ “My Stupid Boyfriend Tag” became the most watched video of the week.


End file.
